


Crowd me close/Never let me go

by serraketo



Category: Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serraketo/pseuds/serraketo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't that Benedict is in love with his co-star. It just isn't. </p><p>Until maybe it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowd me close/Never let me go

It isn't that Benedict is in love with his costar, it definitely isn't. 

Martin is just reliable, a rock, a lighthouse in a storm and many other things that Benedict can't put into words for fear of rendering them too romantic. They're friends, brothers-in-arms, SherlockandWatson, _just the two of them against the rest of the world_ and it isn't about love, infatuation, desire or lust. 

Chemistry. That's the first thing that gets talked about, the first thing people ask them about and most importantly, the first thing they noticed about each other. It's not a sexual chemistry, it's just a way they bounce off each other, a particular sense of what the other is thinking which allows them to jump back and forth with such speed in conversations that they leave all other participants bobbing in their wake. In-jokes flow free and swiftly within days of making each other's acquaintance and they are constantly amusing/annoying the production crew with their antics between takes. 

Only a few weeks in and they're really hit their stride as friends - Benedict gives up having to describe how he's feeling to Martin first thing in the morning and Martin in turn stops smiling when he knows Ben sees right through it on late night shoots that become early morning shoots. 

And that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? That they don't need to verbalise exactly how they're feeling and what they need. It's pure intuition when Martin sees Benedict struggling with a monologue and purposely flubs a line, taking a minute to check John's motivation with the director of the day so that Benedict can shake it off and reset his head. And he does it without a moment's hesitation and without ever inferring that Benedict is an iota less than brilliant at what he's doing. And when Benedict flies over to New Zealand to do his parts for the Hobbit, he can tell Martin is way out of sorts and spends hours slaving away over a home-cooked meal in an effort to brighten his mood and bring a smile back to his friend's weary, homesick face. 

Olivia had called him on it, years ago, when he and Martin only been counting themselves as friends for a few months. She'd hurled accusations at him, screaming as she threw her belongings into a suitcase and launched herself into the streets, ranting about how she could never fit his idea of a perfect relationship and after all these years, she was sick of trying. A week or so later, she'd come back to get the rest of her things, and they'd ended up talking for hours over a bottle of wine. _"I used to just think you were too far into Sherlock, and had started considering yourself married to the work," she'd explained. "But really, Ben, it's not the work. You love him. And that's okay, just... not with me around."_ Olivia had smiled sadly once more, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and left him for good. All he could remember of the rest of that night was opening and finishing another bottle of red on his own and maybe crying a little over the loss of a woman as genuinely _good_ as Olivia. 

(If he found himself at 2am looking at production stills of himself and Martin on the internet to try and see what Olivia saw and eventually finding his way to the 'Johnlock' tag on tumblr... Well, that was no-one else's business.)

So here he is now, toes dipped into the maelstrom that is _'International Stardom'_ , but still not fully immersed. They're walking the black carpet for _the Hobbit, the Desolation of Smaug_ in Los Angeles, one of the most intense red carpets he's ever been on, and the nerves are so tricky to manage this time around that it's the most difficult thing in the world to try and stop himself from patting the deep maroon velvet of his blazer. 

Benedict can't help the wistful sighs that escape him, ones that only he can hear, as he gazes back to where Martin and Amanda are walking the red carpet, posing for photos. Martin and Amanda, who have been together for longer than Benedict has been recognized for his acting. Martin and Amanda, who have positively _delightful_ children together, children who adore Benedict as much as the couple themselves do. Martin and Amanda, who even stand at the same height so when one turns their head slightly, they can immediately catch and hold the other's gaze without any awkward neck-crick issues or strange height power play. 

He hates that he knows Amanda's eyes are twinkling in the same grey-blue shade as Martin's, hates that he doesn't understand the private smiles they keep shooting each other in between camera flashes, hates that it's Amanda that gets to hold Martin's hand as he forces himself through the _fucking hell's door of our bullshit business_ as the man has so eloquently put it, while Benedict walks alone, with only his publicist tagging along as his entourage. 

But what Benedict really hates is how much he suddenly wishes - _desperately hopes, dreams, prays, desires_ \- to be standing next to Martin, reliable and safe, like a lighthouse in a storm. 

You see, it isn't that Benedict is in love with his co-star. Until he realises that it absolutely, definitely, irrefutably is.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, that's my RPF cherry popped. Playing a bit fast and loose with factual events. Lord only knows how these things panned out. 
> 
> Comments always loved, and yell if you see any mistakes... I beta myself and sometimes I'm not that good at it! ;)


End file.
